No Such Thing As Happily Ever After
by dyingimmortal
Summary: Imprinting. That's supposed to be the end of all your love problems, right? I thought, if it ever happened to me, it better be, considering how it ruined my life and all… Yeah, anyway, that's what I thought. I really should've known better. Leah/Nahuel. Discontinued.
1. Taipei 101

**_Warning:_**_ Excessive foul language and possibly some sexual references or insinuations. That's why it's rated T, people; that's why it's rated T._

_I'm perfectly aware of the fact that I shouldn't be starting any new stories, especially since there are at least two other multi-chaptered fics I have yet to post on ffnet that I'll be posting, probably sometime soon. And I have two incomplete multi-chaptered stories up already. _

_… violent ideas. Hafta._

_The pairing for this story is **Leah/Nahuel**, if you couldn't tell from the summary and the characters up there. Don't like, don't read. This is sort of based on "You Have Got To Be Kidding Me" by **thunder skies**, a really awesome Leah/Nahuel multi-chaptered story that you should all check out. :D Yeah. I got the whole idea of Leah/Nahuel from that, though hopefully this story will be different (I've already got some ideas for it that are way different… you can probably tell from the summary already xD especially if you've read YHGTBKM)… and hopefully I won't accidentally plagiarize YHGTBKM, though it's possible, considering how many times I've reread it and had it ingrained into my brain. o_O_

_This story is NOT part of the Imprint series. I have a different (and even more improbable! :D) pairing for the Leah fic in the Imprint series. Bwahaha. Can't wait to post THAT one. ^_^;_

_By the way, I found a "name meanings" site, and according to it, "Leah" apparently means "weary." I think that fits. xD_

_… anyways. I'll shut up now. :)_

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Leaning against a wall in the far corner of the spacious room in a hideously poofy, pink bridesmaid dress, I found it quite hard not to hate my cousin.

It was just so easy to do so—fuck, she was still pretty, despite the thick scars marring one side of her face. Throw in the fact that she used to be my best friend until she'd stolen my boyfriend, or the fact that _she'd just freakin' gotten married to him_, and we were the best BFFs ever. (I don't care if "best BFFs" means "best best friends forever." Shut up.)

I watched Emily and Sam whirl around on the floor together, happiness just pouring out of their very essences (or essence… after all, they _were _an imprinted couple, and I forced myself to think that, no matter how much it hurt), sort of like the way a skunk emanated a nasty stench, or the way a bloodsucker did… except it was worse, way worse, in _their_ case.

Despite the fact that I was still bitching about Sam and Emily's marriage, I couldn't exactly blame them for being so happy. They'd just gotten freaking _married_. This was their wedding reception, now. I don't think I've ever seen people _not_ happy at their wedding receptions before. And Emily was nothing special; I couldn't expect _her_ to break the trend of people being happy at their wedding receptions.

But still… after practically being forced into being a bridesmaid (I hadn't wanted to, of course, but there was nothing like a good guilt trip to make a girl with a conscience—yes, I actually did have a conscience, thankyouverymuch—do something, albeit unwillingly), I'd thought I was being incredibly selfless. You know, like on those suckass TV dramas, or whatever. Girl goes out with boy, boy breaks up with girl. Girl becomes bitter bitch, then makes selfless comeback and starts planning original boy's wedding to someone else, and everyone else congratulates her on being such a great person or whatever.

That was my story all the way, except I hadn't actually planned Emily's wedding with her, just acquiesced to being a bridesmaid, and my congratulations were still totally nonexistent.

… Actually, they weren't. The congratulations were here all right, just in another form: the form of gossipy old shitfaces who couldn't mind their own damn business, all whispering to one another about how the bride's cousin used to be the groom's girlfriend, and_ here she is now_, putting on such a brave face, and _isn't it such a shame_?

… You know life sucks when you start comparing your own (life, that is) to a lame TV sitcom drama.

I was too busy fidgeting with the ugly pink sleeves on my bridesmaid dress, absorbed in my reflections of the past few years and my overall sucky life in general, to notice Emily had finished her first dance with her new husband and was now heading towards me.

(There was no way you could blame me for not seeing her, though. I mean, seriously.)

Only when Emily cleared her throat did I look up. Great. I hadn't congratulated the newlyweds yet, and I hadn't planned to (call it petty revenge), but now that one of them… the newlyweds, that is… was actually standing in front of me, I suppose I had no other choice.

"Leah," Emily greeted me, and her soft voice was warm and kind. I only hated her more for it—it would just make me feel even more guilty than I already did, hating her on her wedding day and all that.

"Hey, Emily," I muttered half-heartedly.

"How are you?" she asked, nothing but concern in her tone.

"Just great. Just friggin' great." I smiled blandly. _Yeah, except for the part where you married my ex-boyfriend. I really wish you would keel over and die, you bitchy boyfriend-stealer. Oh, and congratulations on getting married! _I could only imagine saying _that_; surely it wouldn't go over very well with my cousin.

"Leah," she sighed, sounding sort of exasperated now.

"Congratulations," I managed to hack out of the back of my throat.

A genuinely happy smile spread over her face again. Good God, but that girl could change moods quickly. "Thank you, Leah," she said.

"You're welcome." I inserted as much venom as possible into those three syllables. Well, so could I. I wasn't going to let someone like _her_ best me in anything. (Call me childish if you want; I don't give a crap.)

There was an awkward silence, then Emily spoke again.

"Leah… I'd like to ask a favor of you."

I think I had every right to just about blow up in her face. Don't you agree? _"What?!"_ I hissed. "Isn't it_ enough_ that you stole my boyfriend? Isn't it enough that I became a fucking bridesmaid at your stupid wedding? Why the hell are you asking me for _another_ favor? Weren't the ones I already did for you enough?!" My voice rose to a slight shriek at the end of my little tirade.

"Leah…" Emily warned, looking all disapproving. I suddenly realized I'd never wanted to phase and tear at anyone's face more than I wanted to do so at that very moment. Some sort-of-sadistic little part of me thought that Emily's face was only half-messed up, and someone really needed to finish the job. "Leah, you're my cousin, and I love you very much,"—_sure, try showing it then_—"but frankly, I'm getting a bit… tired of this."

Oh, hell no, she did_ not_. "Ex_cuse _me?" I spat.

"Leah, I wish you would face this like the adult you are," Emily said, and she actually looked fucking serious. Holy sweet mother of Jesus, the bitch was deluded. Or delusional. Both worked. "All of… _it_… happened… months and months, years, ago. You need to learn to let go of it and face your issues, and then perhaps you could stop trying to bring everyone else down, and learn to be happy for others." She sounded like a wannabe psychologist or something.

But… ho. Ly. Fuck. Was she _serious_?!

"Um… I hate to break it to you," I began, and I hated how my voice wavered, just the slightest bit, "but that's"—I pointed in the general of direction of where I'd last seen Sam—"_my_ ex-boyfriend. The one who used to my _boyfriend, _no ex. The one that _you_ stole?"

"This is what I mean, Leah," Emily explained patiently, like she was Miss High-and-Mighty and everyone else had to bow down to her throne of wisdom and fountain of knowledge or something. "You need to let go of the past, and face the present, or you'll never stop being so…" her voice trailed off.

"So _what_? Bitchy?" I felt myself grin then, a huge, sardonic grin that nearly split my face in half, but I didn't care anymore. "Go on. Say it. I'm a complete and total bitch, right? A bitter harpy? I need to stop, oh, what was it you said?—_bringing everyone else down._ I'm right, aren't I?"

Emily didn't say anything, because her new husband said it all for her. He was just suddenly _there_, his presence commanding and stern. "That's quite enough, Leah," he snapped, like a schoolteacher rebuking a misbehaving child.

Oh. So that was what I was to him now, huh? _A misbehaving child._

Well, if I was going to play the misbehaving child, I might as well be the bratty, self-indulgent misbehaving child.

"Oh, it's enough? No, no, I don't think it is," I corrected him. "_I_ think—of course, after you went and fucking imprinted on my cousin, I don't think _my_ opinion counts for much anymore, but I'm just saying, and you might want to listen, because, you know—"

"Lee-Lee, _stop it_."

And, like the pathetic, pining loser I was, that was all it took for me to break. Just those two little syllables. _Lee-Lee_.

I stared at the two of them, the newlyweds, for one long moment. Emily looked worried (probably about what guests would think of her after _this_ little drama at _her_ wedding reception), concerned (for Sam, obviously), annoyed (at me), and slightly teary (for her own poor hurt feelings, boo-freaking-hoo), all rolled into one. Sam's face was rather more impassive, but all I could see in his expression was something that screamed, "Leah, I love Emily and not you, so just shut the hell up and go away and stop ruining my happy day!"

It was kind of funny how I could see such a mouthful of words in one facial expression, but oh, it was there all right, and the force of that stupid expression was what made me turn and run. That, and all the reminders those two little syllables, _Lee-Lee_, brought crashing down over my poor unsuspecting head.

"Leah!" I heard someone shout, over the light music playing in the background, as I dashed for the door, pushing past startled guests and stunned relatives. The voice was Jacob's; I recognized it and chose to ignore it, running even faster. I wasn't even sure _why_ I was running so fast to get the hell out of here anymore; all I knew was that I couldn't stand to look at that expression for even a thousandth of a second longer. Or be reminded again of all the times Sam had called me _that_, only in a much kinder, loving tone…

_Fuck. I'm obsessed._

"Leah!" a second voice shouted; Seth's. I was already out the door, running down the carpeted hallway, past doors and staircases to the exit. I kicked my heels off as I ran, and I heard a satisfying _thunk_ as they hit the wall and fell, forlorn, unwanted, to the ground, not unlike their wearer…

I burst out of the double doors of the event center, where Sam and Emily's wedding reception had been held, panting and gasping for breath. A quick look around to check for people, and upon finding none, I phased and ran, a small part of me viciously glad that I'd just torn my bridesmaid dress (the hideous, $180 one) to shreds.

Running was always the best thing I knew how to do. I was the fastest wolf of La Push, always was and always will be. It miffed a lot of people—like _Sam_, for instance—that the smallest wolf of them all, a _girl_, could outrun them all, but it was true, and it was the only thing I had going for me. Running was the best thing I could do, and now I embraced it, dashing away from the event center, from Sam and Emily's wedding, from the whole entire screwed-up day, hell, my entire screwed-up life. Being a wolf and running… it was freeing.

I had no idea how long I ran; just that I stuck to alleys and deserted side streets, and before long, I was navigating the familiar terrain of the forests around La Push and Forks again. It wasn't until my paws and chest began to ache did I finally stop, panting for breath.

I also had no idea how long I lay there on the mossy forest floor, eyes closed, trying not to think about anything in particular. I did know that at one point, Jacob and Seth popped up simultaneously in my mind.

_Leah! Leah!_ Seth's mental voice was frantic with worry… worry for _me_. It was pathetically sentimental of me to even _think_ about thinking such a ridiculously clichéd thing, but I swear my heart actually warmed just a smidge, knowing I could always count on my little brother to care for me.

Blame it on the past events of the day. I know I did.

_Leah, are you okay? Wait… stupid question. _I could practically hear Jacob kicking himself mentally in the head. The boy was quite flexible… mentally, anyway. Werewolf stamina and all that? _Of course not. I mean… ugh. You know what I mean. I mean… Uh, where are you?_

_I'm… in the forest. Near Forks. _I was going to say "home," but something stopped me. I wasn't entirely sure what.

_I'm guessing you don't want companionship right now? _That was Jacob again.

I wanted to smile wearily, like all those heroines in movies who faced a great obstacle and came out of the whole thing wiser and shit, but I couldn't muster up the will to do so. I settled for responding to Jacob's educated guess. _You guess correctly._

_We're here if you need us, sis, _Seth said, eager to offer what help he could. He sounded incredibly anxious. It was kind of endearing, actually. Not that I'd ever admit it, of course. I had a reputation to keep up.

My fellow pack members heard those thoughts and I could tell they were amused, just the slightest bit, under their anxiety and concern and all that, but somehow, I wasn't offended. I was too weary to be offended—running a lot did that to a person. Or wolf. (Huh, weary. Maybe I _could_ be one of those wise movie heroines who went around smiling wearily all the time. I just needed the smile, the wisdom, the movie, and I needed to be a heroine. … Scratch that, then.)

_Thanks. I'd like to be left alone now._

My request was fulfilled.

Not much time passed after Jacob and Seth withdrew from our mind-link before I caught the scent, and sat up, unable to fall into unconsciousness or anything as wonderful, because _fate had decreed that Leah Clearwater did not deserve anything wonderful_. (Or even worse—I got something wonderful, got high off it, and then said wonderful thing was taken from me, and I only had farther to fall. Whoo-freaking-hoo; thanks a lot, fate.)

Anyway, the scent caught my attention, because I certainly had never smelled anything exactly like it before, of that I was certain. I would have said it smelled human, except it was just a little bit too sweet to be human, just a little bit too floral. There was something sharp and tangy about the scent, though, not entirely unpleasant, and something warm. The smell was almost human, but bordering on bloodsucker, minus the disgusting part of a leech's scent, if that made sense. It was actually quite a nice scent…

_Human, but bordering on bloodsucker._

Shit.

I sat up. It was probably the demon spawn, the offspring of the mind-rapist and the "beautiful swan" (because come on, "Bella" meant "beautiful" in Italian, and "beautiful swan" was just the most ridiculous name in the world, second only to _Renesmee_, and wasn't it such a coincidence that the so-called beautiful swan and the demon spawn named Renesmee were related?). Jacob was going to bust a gut if he ever heard that I'd nearly gotten high off his imprint's scent.

I heard footsteps then, running. Just one set, though. Ooh, Jacob wouldn't be pleased if ever heard that his dear little spawn had been running around all by her lonesome—

My thoughts were effectively cut off when the footsteps with the exotic scent came into view, bursting through a copse of trees and then sort-of-metaphorically screeching to a halt. He stared. I stared back.

At first, I took in his general appearance. It took me a moment to place it, and then I remembered—it was the half-leech from South America, the one who'd showed up with his bloodsucker aunt, the Psycho Psychic (I'm so witty), her Captain Scarface husband, and another leech with a weird name, and saved everybody from getting beaten up by the bloodsucker royalty from Germany or whatever. (Bloodsucker Nazis. Hahaha.)

I hadn't gotten a good view of him that time—I'd only really seen him run into the clearing, and then he was sort of blocked from my view by the position where he was standing and Paul's massive wolfish frame, but now I assessed him from feet up.

He was tall, over six feet, I could tell. His dark brown skin was testament to the fact that he was more than just a leech, but the speed at which he ran and the way he didn't run screaming from me, the (girlie-)wolf, was testament to the fact that he was more than just a human—besides the scent, of course. He was wearing plain, nondescript, average clothes. A regular old shirt and pants. As I looked up towards his face, all I noticed was that his hair was long, black, and braided, and then I met his eyes, fate decided to royally screw me over, and the world thought it would be a great idea to readjust itself.

That was the only way I could think of to describe it. One moment, bitchy little Leah Clearwater was bitter over the fact that her ex was fucking her cousin, was grieving over how messed up her life was, and the earth orbited around the sun and all that normal stuff. Then, she looked up, met Nahuel's warm teak eyes,—because somehow, I suddenly remembered his name was Nahuel, after the jungle cat, whatever the jungle cat was; we'd been told in that clearing what seemed like ages ago—and all of a sudden, she would have been floating away if it weren't for him.

That was basically what it felt like. Like I could float away at any moment, but _he_ was keeping me anchored to the earth now. The moment I'd looked into his startled eyes, something had formed between us… some bond. It was like… think about whatever it was that kept, say, Taipei 101 up. Then multiply it, whatever it was, a nonillion times, and stick the result between me and Nahuel, attach one end to him and the other to me, and that _might_ _almost _cover a billionth of the sudden attachment I felt for… for…

_Holy fuck,_ I thought, and then I turned and bolted.

(That was the second time today. I really hoped I wasn't going to make a habit of it.)

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_Reviews are loved. :D A lot. Seriously.  
_


	2. Tentacles

_Whaddaya know. It's an update. _

_… um, yeah, not much else to say besides that. xD Enjoy the chapter or something._

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I ran.

Now, normally, when I ran, there was some sort of… rhythm, or something, going on. Call it incredibly cheesy if you will, but it was _true_. I had the ability to turn into a giant wolf. And wolves were animals. Natural, fierce, part of the habitat… whatever. _The point_ being, we—wolves, natural predators and all that; Quileutes in general (Native Americans: think Pocahontas painting with all the colors of the wind and shit)—were sort of "at one" with the earth. (I told you it was incredibly cheesy. Shut the fuck up.) When we ran, it was in harmony with the symphony of nature. (I _said_, shut the fuck up.)

Remember how I said I was the fastest wolf in La Push? I wasn't just the _fastest_; I was the best at running. Like… first chair violinist, or something, in said symphony of nature.

_That_ hardly described my running (if you could call it that) now; "first chair violinist" didn't show at all. Considering the panicked way I was practically stumbling (just at a very fast speed) through the forest now, tripping every few seconds or so on a wayward root or bush or whatever, I'd just been demoted from first chair violinist to last chair tuba, huffing and puffing for air and playing all the wrong notes (off-key to boot), slurring all the wrong things, etc. I was totally messing up the harmony, the balance, of the orchestra.

And all because of some unexpected person in the audience.

Screw eye contact.

As I ran (or stumbled), my thoughts whirred. They basically went like this:

_HolyfuckholyfuckholyfuckholyfuckIjustfreakingassimprintedholyfuckholyfuckholyfuckIjustimprintedholyfuckholyfuckholyfuckimprintholyfuck—_

… I'm sure you get the general gist of it.

But…

Holy_ FUCK._

I'd never expected to imprint; mostly because a Certain Person (coughmyoldalphacough) believed that we wolves only imprinted to pass on the wolf gene, and since I was a sterile bitch, it was unlikely that I could pass on any wolf genes. Since girlie-wolves weren't even supposed to freaking exist.

I'd always harbored some tiny little hope, deep inside, that I'd imprint, though, and that Certain Person had been wrong (they'd all been wrong about girlie-wolves, so why not, right?). I mean, yeah, the whole imprinting thing ruined my life some years back. But imprinting… when you just looked at Kim and Jared or whatever, they looked so… _right_ together. I hadn't had _right_ since that Certain Person. (I refused to think his name; I didn't want to find out if it would still hurt or not—because if it didn't, then that would just make the whole I-imprinted-on-a-fucking-half-vampire thing real.)

I wanted _right_, I'd always wanted it, but I didn't expect to find _right_ in a _leech._

Taipei 101's foundations shook. I decided to take that as a sign that I shouldn't call Nahuel a leech.

_Nahuel. Nahuel._

The name was like music to my ears. (Yes, cliché, but it was sort of hard to think beyond "holy fuck".)

_Shit. No._

I _refused_ to think about that right now.

(Okay, so I _could _think a little beyond "holy fuck" right now. … Not much, though.)

I wasn't even sure where I was running (stumbling); I just knew that I had to run. Call it wolf instinct. Running was supposed to be my forte, my escape. It didn't really seem like I was _escaping _anything now, though; first of all, I strained my ears and heard no footsteps following me. Or… were those footsteps in the distance? Perhaps. Were they heading towards me? No.

Second of all, I wasn't exactly doing a bang-up job of running right now. I cussed as I narrowly avoided ramming headfirst into a tree. Forte, my ass. It wasn't exactly showing right now.

I kept running, though, despite how majorly I was currently sucking at it. I just wanted to keep running, forever and ever and ever, until I dropped dead of exhaustion and no longer had to worry about little, inconsequential things like imprints and—

_Fuck._

My brain was turning traitor on me.

And so were my paws, apparently, because they slowed of their own accord, and I found myself, with some surprise, in front of Jacob's house.

My voice box joined the club (the Turn-Traitor-On-Leah one); the next thing I knew, I was howling.

And then Jacob stumbled outside, looking tired and bleary-eyed, wearing only a pair of cut-off jeans. His eyes widened when he saw me. "Leah…?"

I didn't howl again. I'd finally gained some semblance of control over my own body.

Unfortunately, Jacob mistook this as "Leah needs clothes," instead of "Leah needs you to fuckin' phase, because as much as she doesn't want to admit it, she needs your help, since you're her alpha, and you're the only other wolf whose apparent soul mate is a freaking…"—which was what I meant.

So he said, "Wait here," disappeared into his house, and came back a few moments later with a T-shirt and a pair of cut-off jeans that looked identical to the ones he was currently sporting himself. He tossed the clothes at me and turned his back.

I glared balefully at him (how dare he misunderstand me!), but I phased back dutifully, like a good little beta, pulled on the clothes I'd just been given, and stated, "I need your help." Okay, more like _choked out _instead of stated. Whatever.

Stupid bastard misunderstood me _again_. (What was this, National Screw Leah Over Day? First with the running—or stumbling, then the part where my body decided to gain its own free will, and now Jacob was thinking I meant all these things I didn't. I swear, fate just spat on me today.) "I know, Leah," he said, still looking all concerned and shit. "You okay now? With Sa—er, the wedding and—"

"I don't give a fuck about Emily and Sam and their damn wedding!" I shrieked, before I could stop myself. I glared at Jacob, my fists clenching. He just _had_ to make assumptions—

Then the full impact of those words hit me: _I don't give a fuck about Emily and Sam._ It was _true_. Saying Sam's name didn't hurt anymore.

That meant…

Holy fuck, I really _had_ just imprinted.

On a bleedin' half-_vampire_. (The fact that I didn't say "bloodsucker" or whatever didn't escape my notice, either.)

My face must have crumpled or something with the realization, because Jacob looked all nervously worried again. Only he probably thought my face was crumpled because I'd been lying about not caring about Sam and Emily, and not because I'd just imprinted. Or whatever. (Yup, National Screw Leah Over Day indeed.) "Leah, I—"

"Move," I snarled. He was blocking the doorway.

He moved. Smart kid.

I stormed into his house and headed for the kitchen. Jacob followed tentatively, his face wary. God, he really _was_ smart. I made a mental note to ask him his IQ later, after this whole imprinted-on-that-dude thing blew over (because there really was no point in denying it any longer. But I still wasn't going to say _his_ name—it would be just my luck to go into raptures or something at the sound of it, and then I'd have a lot of explaining to do. Well, even more than I already did).

"Uh, so, Leah…" Jacob began, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

I glanced at him. He was hovering in the kitchen doorway, his eyes half-concerned, half-wary, and half-confused. (No, I do not care if that adds up to one and a half. Shut your mouth.) I decided to help him a little. "I actually don't care about Emily and Sam, you know," I told him.

"Right," Jacob said slowly, in the tone that someone would use to say, "Of course Paris Hilton is US president material." Translation: the kid clearly didn't believe me.

"No, I seriously don't."

"Leah," Jacob said, his voice hesitant, like I was going to blow up in his face. "You're not high, are you?"

"… the _hell?!_"

I think I was perfectly justified in that response. Because _that _hadn't been totally random of him to say.

"I mean… you're having… like, mood swings or something," Jacob continued. "I mean, first you were all… upset, then you yelled, and now you're calm, and—"

"The hell?" I repeated.

"So, not high then?"

Well, I'd almost gotten high recently off, er, _that scent_, but I wasn't going to _tell _him that.

"Wait, so… are you PMSing? Wait… but that's impossible! You're infer—no offense, I just mean that as a statement of fact—"

"Jacob!" I yelled, standing up. God, the kid was deluded. "I. Am. Not. P. M. S. Ing."

"Oh. Right." He scratched the back of his head in a sheepish sort of way. "So, er, what's up?"

"I thought you thought I was still upset about Sam and Emily," I reminded him. "So why are you asking?"

Jacob just stared at me for one long moment, like I'd sprouted tentacles all over my face or something. Crap… I hadn't, had I? I poked myself in the face a couple of times. Nope, no tentacles. So then what was the problem?

"Um, are you drunk then?"

Yeah. He was officially insane. "Noooo… I'm not slurring my words, am I?"

"Well, you just sort of did, with the 'no' and—"

"Why do I even bother?" I asked myself. Dear Lord. Me. Why?

"So. Er. … What happened, then?"

Aha. There was a good question. "I sort of…" I mumbled at my feet.

"What?" Jacob leaned closer, his head and shoulders hanging through the kitchen doorway while the rest of his body stayed on the other side of the threshold; his hands kept him from overbalancing and falling.

"… imprinted," I finished.

Jacob fell through the doorway, landing in a heap of tangled limbs. "Ow, fuck," he muttered, before leaping back up clumsily, eyes wide. "You… _what?!_"

"Imprinted," I reiterated. "Y'know, that thing that you do when you find your soul mate or something."

"I _know_ what imprinting is," Jacob said, still staring at me, eyes still wide. He resembled a goldfish. ("Jacob the Wide-Eyed Goldfish; had a pair of hu-uge eyes…" Ooh. That could take over Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer any day.) "I just… _you_… imprinted… wow…"

"Yeah." And then, because today was National Screw Leah Over Day, my mouth stretched into a smile without any help from me, and my brain thought, _Nahuel. Nahuel._

Ah, bliss.

… Ugh. Crap. I had to focus. Needed Jacob's help—

"On _who_?"

And the clincher pops up, waves merrily, and says hi.

"Just like you," I mumbled, hoping he'd get the hint.

Jacob's eyes widened even further, if that was possible, and I immediately realized I'd said the wrong thing; his IQ probably wasn't high enough to understand _that_ hint—

"I… you imprinted on _Nessie?!_" he yelped, horrified.

_"What?!"_

"I mean—but that's impossible! Two wolves can't have the same imprint—"

_"Jacob!!"_

"—and you're both _girls_! And—"

_"JACOB!!"_

"—and you _hate_ the vampires—"

Well, at least _that_ part was true. Except for, er, a certain vampire. Or half-vampire. Whatever. "_JACOB_. I. DID. NOT. IMPRINT. ON. THE. DEMON. SPAWN."

"Don't call Nessie a demon spawn!"

There was a moment of silence, then:

"Oh. Well… that's good, then. So… what do you mean, just like me?"

Leave it to Jacob to think that clarifying his imprint as Not A Demon Spawn was more important than asking his beta whom she'd just imprinted on.

I made another mental note to myself, this one to slap his priorities straight later, after I asked him his IQ.

"Um… Leah… wanna answer my question now?"

Huh. Did I?

"No."

Actually, I sort of did, just so he could tell me what to do with a human-vampire hybrid imprint, but too late for that now.

Jacob rolled his eyes. He really needed to respect his elders. (Because I was older than him. Ha. Loser.) "Who'd you imprint on, Leah?"

"Just like you."

"You _said_ you didn't imprint on Nessie!"

"Yes, Jacob, I actually remember some of the things I say; thank you for reminding me!"

"Well, then what do you mean, 'just like you'?"

"I mean, maybe my imprint's also a half-vampire!"

There. I said it.

… crap.

Jacob's eyes, which had finally gotten to normal size again, popped back to their dinner-plate roundness again. Hey, goldfish, what's up? "Holy fuck," he breathed.

"Yeah, that was my reaction, too."

Silence. Then:

"So… that Nahuel guy, right?"

And even though I'd been upset and shocked at first, mostly because of the whole half-_vampire_ thing, there was no way to stop the smile that decided it would be awesome to dance across my face, positively _twirling _and _pirouetting_ like a fucking _ballerina_. Taipei 101 agreed. "Yeah. Him."

"Where? When? What did you say to him?"

The ballerina crashed into Taipei 101 and fell over, unconscious, with a huge head injury. Not to mention the concussion. No ambulances came screeching over, either. "Um… I sort of ran. Here," I said, lamely.

"You imprinted, and you ran," Jacob repeated.

"That sounds about right," I confirmed.

"But… why?"

Clincher number two embraced the first. They were probably long-lost siblings.

"… I don't know."

Some little part of me—perhaps my subconscious?—told me it was because I'd been too shocked about imprinting in the first place, not to mention that my imprint was a half-vampire, but that little part was overshadowed by the rest of me, which realized that running had been a very stupid thing to do indeed. I should have stayed. And talked to Nahuel.

_Nahuel. Nahuel. Talked to Nahuel. I amaze myself with my brilliant ideas._

The sad part was, I actually wasn't being sarcastic when I thought that.

_That_ was how far gone I was.

… but wasn't that the point of imprinting?

"Well, you should probably… y'know, go talk to him or something," Jacob suggested. "Soon."

"Good idea," I agreed, before the words actually had any sort of impact on my brain. "… wait. Why should I?" Besides the fact that I just _should_; it was, after all, the best idea ever.

He stared at me like I'd just grown another head. Another head with tentacles sprouting out all over it. Ew. I checked, just in case; no extra heads. Jake really needed to stop with the whole Stare-At-Leah-Like-She-Just-Grew-Tentacles-Or-Extra-Heads thing.

"Um, why are you patting your face?" he wanted to know.

"Checking for tentacles. Or extra heads."

"… right. I don't want to know," Jacob decided. Wise idea, kid, wise idea. That only reminded me of the whole IQ thing. "But seriously. You have to go find Nahuel, and tell him about the whole imprint thing."

Seeing Nahuel sounded like a _great_ idea. Telling him about the imprint? Not so much.

"But… but…" I stammered.

… Wow. I'd just _stammered_.

Haven't done _that_ in a while.

"Nessie told me yesterday that he and his aunt were visiting the Cullens," Jacob continued, like I hadn't said a word. What a lack of etiquette. A rude jackass he was, yes. "… well," he pondered, going off-topic for a moment, "apparently, it's just Nahuel"—what a beautiful name; it just rolled off the tongue like, uh, water… shut up—"visiting, and his aunt went along with him even though she didn't want to, or something. Not sure why. But anyway, they're visiting the Cullens. So, y'know, Nahuel's probably there right now. I'll take you; I haven't seen Nessie today yet either."

I found my voice then, thank God. "I don't want to visit the Sewer Folk," I protested.

Jacob snorted. "Sewer Folk? The hell, Leah?"

"Well, they smell about as pleasant," I explained. "Maybe a little less."

"… true," he acquiesced. Whoo. Score for Leah Clearwater. "But still. Your _imprint's _part, uh, 'Sewer Folk,' too. Don't you want to see your _imprint_? The one you _imprinted_ on?" Talk about redundant. "What's his name? Oh right, _Nahuel_…"

"Screw you," I grumbled. And, just because I truly_ was_ pathetic, I snapped, "It's your fault if I get drowned in the Sewers' drainage system or something."

"Y'know, that doesn't even make sense," Jacob felt compelled to point out. Before I could impress him with my colorful vocabulary and _amazing_ insulting skills, he said, "C'mon, let's go."

All thoughts of sewage flew out of my mind. Flew out of my mind like a bird. A huge, black bird with beady eyes and feathery wings—

… oh, shut up.

* * *

_Feel free to point out if anyone seemed OOC. I tried to make everybody as in character as possible, including their reactions and stuff, but I dunno…_

_If you review, I will love you forever. If you hated it, feel free to flame. Thanks for reading either way._

_~By the way, Leah__'s comments about the tuba/symphony orchestra are not completely politically correct. I never pegged her as the band type, anyways.  
_


	3. Teetering

_I added something about this to the end of the author's note last chapter, but since it's rather unlikely any of you will be seeing that, I'll add a comment about it here, too: Thanks to cynic in a fishbowl (I took out the periods because ffnet seems to think that, with the periods, it__'__s a link or something) for, er, ever-so-kindly pointing out the inconsistencies in Leah's symphony orchestra metaphor reasoning at the beginning of the last chapter. (If that made sense.) Let's just assume Leah doesn't know jack shit about tubas or symphony orchestras, okay? :)_

_Thanks for all the reviews/alerts/favorites/etc~ For readers of DitR: I've decided not to try to finish the story by this Friday. That would be impossible. I'm just going to try to update by this Friday instead._

_I just had a whole new entourage of ideas for this fic. (I may have to write a separate, unrelated Leah/Nahuel multi-chaptered fic after this one just to get all the ideas out… ha.) I'm going to find some way to incorporate most of them… originally, the plot was a lot different than it is now. A lot of the things that happen in this chapter weren't originally going to happen, but now they are. Going to happen, I mean. Yup._

_

* * *

_

I chickened out.

… Yeah, you heard me right. I chickened out, okay?

(Or, as Jacob said, "wolfed out"… at least, I _think_ that's what he said; he was laughing too hard at his lame pun for me to be sure.)

It wasn't anything complicated, like a turmoil-filled decision or whatever. It was actually quite simple, to-the-point, and it basically happened like this:

As I ran alongside Jacob (I was running a lot today, huh?) through the forest, heading towards the Sewers, something that vaguely resembled reason began creeping back into my brain. The reason came in the form of these thoughts:

_… I'm heading towards the _Sewers _now. Where it smells like _shit_. Where I'll have to see the mind-fucker and his "twue wuv" and their demon spawn around. Where I'll have to talk to _Nahuel—the name still sounded like it was made of pure awesome, by the way—_and tell him about the imprint, and he'll probably reject me because my life is made of pure suck_—

Unfortunately, my brain was currently connected to Jacob's, something that I somehow forgot (I blame the imprint), so he saw the reason coming and effectively halted it in its tracks.

Jacob's roadblock, halting the Reason in its tracks, came barreling into said Reason like… um… a barrel. (Yeah, yeah, so my creative juices were drying up. I think that's understandable, considering how I was about to go and tell my _imprint _of just that—the imprinting.) _Don't call Nessie a demon spawn, Leah, _was his first thought. 'Course, he thought Nessie was the Most Important Thing Ever. Wasn't I supposed to ask his IQ and slap his priorities straight or something? _I don't want to know what the heck you're talking about,_ Jacob told me, before continuing with his Roadblock. _Also, since you _imprinted_ on Nahuel, he's going to like you and stuff. So stop thinking he'll reject you. _

_"And stuff," _I mocked, in a rather transparent attempt to distract him. _How eloquent of you, dearest alpha. "And stuff." I am simply_ amazed _by your literary skills._

_Stop trying to distract me, _Jacob snorted. Damn. The kid missed nothing lately. Stupid alpha genes. _Here's what's going to happen: You're going to go to the Cullens'. You're going to ask to see Nahuel. He's going to agree. You're going to introduce yourself and explain about the imprint. He's going to be fine with it. And you're going to live happily ever after or whatever._

Bad choice of wording there, Black. Really bad choice of wording. I felt my fur bristle, and I don't think it was the wind that rushed past as I ran. _There's no such thing as happily ever after, _I informed Jacob, mental voice tight.

_Sure there is. You see, uh, Paul and Rachel, or—_

_I thought you'd be more upset about your sister getting it on with Paul, _I remarked.

_WHAT?! _I winced as Jacob's voice echoed through my head, much louder than it was just a few moments ago. _They're getting it on?!_

_How should I know?_

_But you _said_—_

_Chill out; maybe they are and maybe they aren't. Either way—_

_That's sick. That's just _sick, Jacob groaned.

It actually was. Rachel and I had sort of been friends at school (the one on the rez)… sort of in the way that you knew the person and talked to them at lunch and stuff (okay, so I wasn't exactly the most eloquent person ever, either. Big freakin' deal), but you didn't call each other every night or go to their little brother's birthday parties, or anything. I hadn't known any of the Blacks very well, really, despite the fact that our parents had always been good friends (now I knew it was the whole Elders thing). I'd always just hung out with Sam and his friends (Paul, Jared).

The fact that I could say Sam's name now and not feel anything but indifference (which, I guess, was still feeling something… whatever) still amazed me.

The idea that Rachel Black was Getting It On with _Paul _(and I'd always known him as Sam's surly friend, and later, the one member of the pack whose ass I really wanted to kick, more than anyone else's) actually_ was _sick.

Of course, the moment my thoughts strayed to the disgustingness (or whatever the noun would be) of Paul and Rachel's, er, relationship, and the possibility of the existence of their sex life, I just _had_ to think, _Well, at least we've stopped talking about the imprint._

_My_ imprint. Not Paul's. (Or Jacob's.) Just to clarify.

Anyway, of course, the moment I thought that, Jacob heard it, and said, _Well, you're shit out of luck, because we sure as hell are going to talk about your imprint now. _

_Screw you, _I said, for lack of anything better to say.

_"Screw you." How clever of you, dearest beta. "Screw you." I am simply_ amazed _by your insulting skills. _

I guess I sort of walked into that one, but I still disliked having my own words thrown back in my face. _Go fuck yourself—oh wait, you can't; that would be cheating on _Renesmee_!_

_Hey, you said her name! _Jacob's voice was pleasantly surprised. I groaned; there was absolutely no winning with him. He'd find any way he could to twist my words into something… positive. Preferably about his demon spawn.

_Hey, don't call her that,_ Jacob said, sharply. I rolled my eyes, or did the wolf equivalent of it, and tried not to think any thoughts about how I seemed to have sufficiently distracted him from Nahuel.

Nahuel. What a lovely name.

… crap.

_Oh, yeah, speaking of him, _Jacob said breezily, _you imprinted on him. And—_

_I know, idiot. I just so happened to be there when it happened._

_Really? Cool._

Yeah. Absolutely no winning with him. It was sort of like with Seth. He could probably walk in on two people banging each other up, and believe them when they said they were "studying human anatomy." Or something.

_I think you're exaggerating, _Jacob said. _He didn't think Kim and Jared were studying human anatomy that time last year when they went on patrol, right after Jared visited Kim—_

_I don't need to remember, thanks._ Cue the shudder. That was probably the worst part of being a werewolf… shape-shifter, whatever. The mental connection. Not only were my thoughts laid bare to everyone else, like a gutted fish, I also had to suffer mind-scarring mental images from some of the more dirty-minded people of the pack. Also, I had to suffer Sam's thoughts—

_But I don't care about him anymore, _I thought, pleased that the name still didn't hurt.

Unfortunately, my thoughts were the gutted fish right now. I could _feel_ Jacob grinning, a flash of sharp teeth, from our mind-link. _That's great, Leah. It means you really did imprint, and speaking of imprinting, you are _not_ going to not tell Nahuel about the imprint—_

_Hasn't your English teacher taught you _anything_? Double negatives are a major no-no_.

_You _know_ you're trying to distract me when you start correcting my grammar,_ Jacob pointed out.

Screw him, but he was right.

_Why do I have to tell him about the imprint? _I demanded to know instead.

I could feel his smugness radiating from his mind, but at least he didn't acknowledge it. Instead, he answered my question, saying, _Because you do. You _imprinted_ on him. He has a right to know. Besides, isn't that why you're coming with me to the Cullens right now? To tell Nahuel about the imprint?_

_I just wanted to see him, _I protested. _I don't even know if he's at the Cullens—_

_Lame excuse, Leah. Lame. Really, really lame. I believe the correct term is 'epic failure.'_

_Fail, you mean._

_Wouldn't 'failure' be more proper grammar, Miss English Teacher?_

_It's slang. Loser. _

Jacob heaved an irritable mental sigh. _Either way, whether or not you want to, you're going to tell him about the imprint, okay?_

_Is that an _order_, Jacob Black?_

Silence. In our minds, anyway. Birds were still chirping, a light breeze was still blowing, our paws were still hitting the ground as we ran, rare sunlight was still filtering down through the trees (even though that didn't make any noise, but whatever), yadda yadda yadda.

_No. It's not,_ Jacob said, and I think I did a very poor job of concealing my relief. He didn't call me out on it, thank God, his sense of human empathy, and Picasso. (Yeah, don't ask.) _Fine, Leah_, he said. _Don't tell him if you don't want to. But it's not_ my _fault if Edward decides he wants to tell him, or he gets mad at you when he finally _does_ find out—you know he will_—and I couldn't disagree with him there—_or anything. He'd be fine with it now if you told him, I bet, but if you hide it from him, he might get mad when he _does_ find out. Just warning you._

I said nothing. I think all the waves of relief I emanated said it all for me.

And that was basically it; how Leah Clearwater Chickened Out from telling Nahuel about the Imprint. (And yes, that deserves capital letters. And see? No turmoil-filled decisions around to be seen.)

(Or Wolfed Out; Jacob thought of that only a few moments later and nearly cracked a rib laughing about it. Why, I'll never know, because it was seriously the dumbest pun in the world. But I was too relieved about not being forced to tell Nahuel about the Imprint to say anything.)

We reached the Sewers in practically no time at all; not much time must have passed between Sam and Emily's wedding (though it felt like weeks ago… once again, I blame the imprint) and now, for it was still light out. But then again, it _was_ summer… it got dark at around nine or something.

Jacob and I had barely had time to phase back and pull on our clothes before the door to the Sewers opened and one of the Sewer Folk poked his head out. It was the mind-fucker, which explained how he knew we were there. "Hello Jacob, hello Leah," he greeted us, all proper and polite and everything. He needed to get his mind out of the 20th century, _honestly._

"Hey, Edward," Jacob said, and I found that rather funny. Just last year, he would've said "bloodsucker" or something equally derogatory… though he certainly wouldn't even have been _visiting_ the Sewers in the first place.

We'd barely entered the house when a little whirl of bronze curls came barreling around the corner and flung itself—oops, I mean _herself_… wait, scratch that. "Itself" works. (The mind-fucker glared at me once this thought entered my head.) … Anyways, a little whirl of bronze curls came barreling around the corner and flung itself at Jacob, clutching his legs. It was the Demon Spawn (and its daddy glared at me again), who was almost one year old but looked like a toddler already, around Claire's age, even older. I was a bit startled; she—or it, whatever—was normally very reserved.

"Hey, Nessie!" Jacob exclaimed, picking her up and swinging her around. I _think_ I saw Edward wince at this. "Why so excited?—oh, because Nahuel and his aunt's here, and you're learning Spanish from them?" Right, the whole invade-people's-minds-by-touching-them thing. "Just Nahuel, not his aunt? Cool." Jacob's eyes flashed over his imprint's head at me, all full of meaning and shit.

Oh, right. Even if I wasn't going to tell Nahuel (I swear, that name just gets me every single time) about the imprint, I still wanted to _see_ him.

I heard a sharp intake of breath from the mind-fucker's general direction. Like _that_ wasn't ironic and all, because bloodsuckers totally didn't need to breathe. But…

Shit.

It took me fully half a second to whip around and glare at Edward Stalker Cullen. (Watching people while they sleep… how creepy is _that_?) "You're not going to tell _anyone_," I ordered him. "If you do, I'll castrate you and feed you the results. _I mean it._"

He smiled faintly, and I could somehow tell he was still too shocked to be angry or whatever at my threat. "I have no doubt you'd try to," he said. "Not telling him… regardless, I don't think that's a very good idea."

"I don't recall asking for your opinion," I snapped.

The BS (Bloodsucker Spawn as well, because I'm just awesome with multitasking profanity like that) looked from Jacob to her father to me, then back again to her father. Then she brushed Jacob's face lightly, despite the fact that she was already touching him, hugging him around the shoulders. It was weird.

"I'm not sure if I should tell you, sweetheart," Jacob said, glancing at me again. (Sweetheart? Please. Give me a break. If anybody called _me_ that, my mom the only exception, I'd punch them. Pet names and terms of endearment were stupid.)

I shook my head, jerkily, in response to Jacob's unspoken question.

"Aw, c'mon, _Leeee-ahhhh_," he complained, dragging my name out into two _long_ syllables. "She won't tell anyone! Will you, Nessie?"

"Of course not," the spawn said, her voice made of tinkling glass bells.

… Holy shit. Did she just _speak_?

"Yes, Renesmee does have a voice, Leah," Edward deigned to inform me.

_Get out of my head, bloodsucker,_ I groused, and was rewarded with his smile. Yeah, well, screw him.

… I needed to think of something more original.

… anyways…

"I'll have to tell Bella," the mind-fucker said. "It's more likely than not Jasper will find out, too; he'll sense your emotions around Nahuel and put two and two together. And Jasper can't hide anything from Alice; she'll be told as well."

"Miss Leah, what do you have to do with Nahuel?" the spawn asked me, voice filled with curiosity.

… Great. By the time this whole thing blew over, everybody from Jacob Black to a middle-aged guy dressed as a clown selling clothing advertisements in Port Angeles was going to know about me and Nahuel.

… Everybody except Nahuel, hopefully. I wasn't ready to tell him yet. I needed to _see_ him first. (Yes. Seeing him. _Great_ idea.)

… and had the spawn just called me _Miss_ Leah?!

"Fine. But that's it," I ground out, not even caring anymore. I just needed to see Nahuel. Now. It was essential to my survival. "Where is he?"

"He decided to 'take a break'"—the way she said it, it sounded like the phrase deserved to have quotation marks around it—"from teaching me some basic Spanish phrases," the BS said, wind chimes and all. "I think he is speaking to his aunt in one of the nearby rooms."

Nice vocabulary for a… what? Ten-month-old?

"How was Emily and Sam's wedding?" Edward suddenly asked.

"Great. Absolutely brilliant," I said. I wondered why he was asking.

He nodded, seeming half-satisfied and half-awed. I wasn't sure why, and I didn't dwell on it for too long, because someone moved into the hallway—sort of the entry hall or something—and my world fell in place.

Well, that was what it _felt_ like. Like I'd been teetering on the edge of oblivion/a cliff/something, and then someone pushed me back to safety.

I knew full well who it was, even before he came into view. It was mostly the _smell_, and I think I'd be perfectly justified in getting high off it _now_; I mean, hell, it was _my_ imprint. Not Jacob's, but _mine_. And he just _felt_ right.

"Oh," I said, raising my eyes to his faintly surprised teak ones, "hi."

* * *

_Sorry this chapter sucked so badly. I'll try to fix it later. I rather suck at this whole describing an imprint and what the imprinter feels like afterwards thing, don't I?_

_This is completely unrelated, but I just have to share: According to the Twilight Lexicon timeline, Nessie's birthday is September 10th. … Dude. That's my birthday. _

_… anyways. Review, please? I'll be grateful, and while that doesn't mean much at all, well, at least it's better than nothing, I guess. _

_… I think?_


	4. Threshold

_About the lyrics below… I just felt like they belonged for the pre-Nahuel "home" thing (you'll see) in this chapter. Yeah. I might write a drabble about it in Circles (my Twilight random Leah-centric-ish drabbles story). … yeah._

_For readers of DitR~ sorry it's taking me so long to update; writers' block sucks. I'm trying to update by next (or this? … not sure of the correct terminology) Wednesday, though; Friday at the latest. (Monday, music lesson; Tuesday, going to the capital city of the US state I live in for my American citizenship or something like that; Thursday, math team meet.) So, yeah._

_

* * *

_

_I'll be coming home  
Just to be alone  
'Cause I know you're not there  
And I know that you don't care  
I can hardly wait to leave this place_

_No matter how hard I try  
You're never satisfied  
This is not a home  
I think I'm better off alone  
You always disappear  
Even when you're here  
This is not my home  
I think I'm better off alone  
Home… home… this house is not a…  
Home… home… this house is not a home…_

– **_"Home"_** by **Three Days Grace**

**

* * *

**

"Hello," he said, looking slightly bemused, and I honest-to-God hoped the feelings that shot through my chest at his _voice_ didn't show on my face. Because, dude, if they did, well… that'd just be plain _embarrassing_.

There was an awkward silence, during which I tried to rearrange my facial features to vaguely resemble normalcy. At least, that was the effect I hoped to eventually achieve. (I probably failed.) The bloodsucker spawn looked from my face to Nahuel's, and understanding lit up her eyes.

Shit, was I really _that_ obvious?

"Am I interrupting something?" Nahuel asked. "If I am, I can leave; I was just—"

"No!" I yelped, and I think I totally failed to hide the panic in my voice at the idea of him _leaving_.

Fortunately for me, the mind-fucker, Jacob, and the spawn spoke at the same time as I did.

"No, you're not interrupting anything," Edward said.

"No, Nahuel, you may stay," the spawn said. (Ew, who the hell _spoke_ like that? At ten-freaking-months-old?)

"Nope," Jacob said. (Good ol' Jacob. He could speak _normally_. Too bad the same couldn't be said for his little imprint.)

Nahuel's eyebrows shot up into his hairline at our vehement responses, but I couldn't blame him. I took this moment to study him, really study him.

He looked exactly the same as he had when I'd seen him… what was that, an hour ago? Two hours ago? Half an hour ago?

Either way, he didn't seem to have changed. Long black braid, dark skin, eyes a warm brown. Tall, finely featured face. _Very_ finely-featured face.

… Goddamn, he was _hot_.

DPI (Daddy Privacy-Invader) coughed delicately. I tore my eyes from admiring Nahuel to glaring at said mind-fucker. Goddamn, _he_ was _rude_.

"Oh, man, Nessie," Jacob spoke up, sounding almost frantic. I shot him a wary look; he was shifting his weight from one foot to the other and looked seconds away from bouncing up and down. "I want to show you this… uh… really cool leaf I found in the… forest. Yesterday! Yeah."

I think my mouth fell open; I'm not sure. But…

Really cool leaf.

Really cool _leaf_.

… Jacob Black needed to be taught the art of subtlety. Not to mention the art of creating adequate excuses on the spot.

The BS looked extremely amused at his pathetic attempt to make up a good excuse to leave as well. (Not that I wasn't _grateful_; it was just… really cool _leaf_?!) Well, at least that was one thing we had in common. (Not that I'd ever admit it.) "Of course, Jacob; I love leaves," she said, and I think that was when Jake realized how suckass his excuse was. He did look rather embarrassed after that, after all.

The spawn jumped down from Jacob's arms and ran over to Nahuel, and proclaimed, "_Adios_, Nahuel!" And then she giggled insanely, like a little sixth-grade girl who'd just received The Talk.

From her dad.

Nahuel was not perturbed; he smiled gently, looking for all the world like a kind parent amused by his child's silly antics. Only he probably didn't think the spawn was being silly. After all, he _was_ just teaching her Spanish, right? _"Adios, querida,"_ he said.

… Who knew Spanish could sound so sexy?

"Let's go, Jacob; I want to see that leaf," the spawn said, still giggling, and then she took a hold of Jacob's hand and began pulling him out the door. He picked her up, and as he left, he turned and shot me one long look. It looked like it said _good luck_.

Or was that _try not to jump him _right_ away_? I couldn't really tell.

"Where is Huilen?" Edward asked, and I was forcefully jolted back to what was going on _here_. Which had nothing to do with leaves. "I don't hear her thoughts."

"She's gone hunting," Nahuel said, rather shortly.

"I didn't hear her leave," Edward remarked.

Nahuel shrugged.

"Oh," DPI said suddenly, sounding resigned. I wasn't exactly sure why.

Then he blinked, and said, "Well, I'm going to find Bella. I'll leave you two to your…" his voice trailed off, he smiled in a sort of all-knowing way, and then he sidled away, oozing innocence.

I was not fooled.

… And then I was left alone.

With Nahuel.

I wasn't sure if I should rejoice or run after Jacob and his spawn, and their really cool leaf.

Nahuel spoke. "You are one of the shape-shifters, correct?"

I nodded, mutely. I didn't trust myself to speak; with my luck, I'd probably start babbling random declarations of love or something.

… Shit. Love. _Love?! _I didn't _love _him, did I?!

But of course I did; he was my _imprint_, after all.

But… _love_…

Before I could fret any more over this whole "love" issue, _he_ spoke again, and all thoughts of love flew out of my mind. (I mean, they didn't, because I possibly loved _him_, but all _immediate _thoughts of love flew out of my mind… if that made sense.) Whether or not I loved him, I sure as hell loved his _voice_.

"My name is Nahuel," he said.

"I know," I found myself saying.

… Great. Fantastic job, Clearwater. Make him think you're a _stalker_ or something.

"Of course; you were in that clearing approximately half a year ago," he mused, and my heart lightened. He didn't think I was a stalker. That was… good.

"My name's Leah," I mumbled, suddenly feeling like a middle school girl with a crush on a high school boy.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Leah," Nahuel said, and my heart tried to jump out of my chest. (It failed, just for the record; the ribs in the way stopped it from doing so.) If he said my name one more time in that _voice,_ I'd die happy.

"Nice to meet you too," I managed to say, and tried very hard not to stare at his face. I _think_ I succeeded.

There was a moment of silence, but it wasn't awkward or anything. It was more like… like we'd run out of things to say, and were just enjoying each other's company.

… Except, y'know, that wasn't really the case, because all we'd done was introduce ourselves, and we didn't _know_ each other.

I certainly planned to remedy that, however.

"May I pose a question?" he asked, and I was jerked back to attention.

I nodded. I'd probably jump off a cliff he asked me to. (Though, of course, that didn't really have the same meaning as it would for others, because I was a shape-shifting werewolf—redundant, yes; do I care? No—and wouldn't be killed by jumping off a cliff. And I'd gone cliff diving before, anyway… er, but I'll get back to the point.) "Go ahead. Pose away."

He smiled, and this time, it was directed specifically at _me_, and I felt my mouth involuntarily stretch into a smile as well. (I couldn't _help_ it, okay? It was an instinctive reaction. I think my face cracked when I did so, caused by the disuse of those muscles.) He was _smiling_. At _me_.

… I really needed to stop smiling like an idiot before he thought I had gas or something.

He certainly didn't seem to think that, though. He just went ahead and "posed his question." (I'd never liked guys who spoke like they were English professors or whatever before, but I just might have to change my mind now.) "This may sound strange, but… do you know which shape-shifter has a gray coat, and is small for his size?"

Would you believe me if I said I really hadn't expected that question?

It was true, though. I really _hadn't._

I really _should _have, though. In retrospect.

"Oh," I said… it was sort of more like a squeak, actually. But there was no freaking way I was going to _admit _that. Because Leah Clearwater was not the type of person to squeak. "Um… yes."

"Who is he, if I may ask?"

_He._ Ha. "Er… why do you want to know?" I was stalling for time, yes, and debating whether or not I should tell him. That the wolf was me, I mean.

"I was… running earlier today," Nahuel said. "I came across a gray wolf—a shape-shifter wolf—in the forest, though he was small, compared to the size of other shape-shifters. I am merely curious. I mean no harm."

"Oh." I bit my lip and glanced at the floor. It was suddenly very interesting, for some reason. The shiny wooden floorboards were very… shiny, too. And brownish. Yeah. Shiny. (And brownish.) "Er… no one important." Well, at least _that_ was true.

He seemed a bit puzzled by my obvious reluctance to talk about it, but didn't push it. Awesome he was, yes. "Alright," he said, and then that was that.

Another silence followed, and I snuck a peek at his face again… to find that he was studying mine. Something that felt horrifyingly like a blush rose in my cheeks. Leah Clearwater did not _blush_, either. What was _wrong_ with me?

… oh, right, I'd _imprinted_.

… but there was nothing _wrong_ with that…

"Is there a reason you are here?" Nahuel suddenly asked.

I blinked, startled out of my space-out, and glanced up at him. God, his eyes were _captivating_. They were like… I dunno, endless pools of something. (Yeah, cheesy and wannabe-poetic as that sounds, it was _true_.) "Um… I just came with Jacob. He wanted to see the B—er, Nessie."

"I see," he said. "Jacob is your… alpha, correct?"

"Yeah."

"And… Edward told me of this. The reason Jacob is so attached to Nessie is because he—"

Shit, _no_. I was _not_ going to be reminded of that. Because that was only going to make me think that I had to tell Nahuel. About the imprint. Someday.

It didn't seem like a very wonderful prospect. At all.

And I didn't even know _why_. A huge part of me, inside, just really, really did not want to tell him.

Which was why I exclaimed, blabbing out the first words that came to mind, "Um, wanna go find that leaf Jake was talking about?"

… I'm serious. That's what I said.

… Who was I to sneer at Jacob's suckass made-up-on-the-spot excuses, when mine sucked even worse? (I mean, I couldn't even think of something _original_, so I mooched off Jacob's excuse.)

Nahuel blinked, and said, "I believe the leaf Jacob was talking about was merely an excuse to leave. I don't know why he felt the need to invent an excuse to leave, but I think his leaf was an excuse to depart, and not something he actually did find and wanted to show Nessie."

Well, _damn_.

"Uh… well, I'm going to find Jake and Nessie," I mumbled. And then, before I could stop myself, the words burst out of my mouth, of their own free volition (National Screw Leah Over Day, remember?): "Wanna come?"

He smiled, and my heart fluttered again. I swear, it grew wings or something. "Why not? I will come."

* * *

"So," I said, conversationally, as I traipsed through the woods, Nahuel by my side, "you have three sisters." (It was one of the interesting tidbits of information I'd suddenly remembered about him, the moment I imprinted on him. Yup.)

"Yes, I do."

I brushed a stray branch out of the way; it was completely blocking the path (or rather, the area where my head wanted to pass through). Ten minutes or so had passed in silence, during which I'd started into the forest, looking for the general direction Jacob and Nessie had gone in. Nahuel followed.

"Can I ask their names?"

"You just did," he pointed out, with a small smile, and a stupid smile of my own pirouetted across my face as well (again). Every single time he smiled (directly, at me), I either smiled back or my heart started doing jumping jacks. Or both. It would've gotten irritating, but I would seriously do anything to keep him smiling at me like that. So I ignored it.

"Yeah, I guess so." I bit the insides of my cheeks. _Stop smiling, Leah. You probably look like the Joker or whatever. Seriously. Stop. Smiling. It's not that freakin' hard._

But it was, because the idiotic grin on my face seemed to have taken up a semi-permanent (self-contradictory, I know… whatever) residence on my face. _Ugh._

"Their names are Joanna, Sadie, and Layla."

"… Sooo, their moms were European, then?"

"Most likely, yes," Nahuel said, frowning slightly. I did _not_ like him frowning. He was supposed to be _happy_. Not all… unhappy. (Oh, shut up.) And frowning. "Though Layla looks slightly exotic… Joanna and Sadie are both English."

"Cool," I said, lightly, and then I tripped over a branch blocking my way, and landed practically face flat on the ground. "Shit, ow," I muttered, through a mouthful of dirt. I normally wasn't this clumsy. When the hell had I turned into a werewolf human-Bella Swan? (If that even made sense… which it probably didn't, but oh well.)

Then I felt someone's hands on my arms, pulling me back to my feet. _Warm_ hands, and it took me a moment to realize that _Nahuel_ was pulling me up, _touching _me.

I'd always known the BS (though I should probably stop calling her that, because it sort of applied to my imprint, too… I quickly forced the thought out of my head) was warm, hot, whatever, running on a temperature just a few degrees cooler than us werewolves (shape-shifters)… but, dude, _his_ hands were fucking _hot_. Or maybe it was just in my head.

Either way, his hands were warm, and firm, and I never wanted him to let me go.

But of course, he did.

I stumbled slightly again, at the loss of his touch, and then quickly regained my balance. "Thanks," I mumbled.

"You're welcome," he returned.

We returned to silence for a while after that, but once again, it was a perfectly comfortable silence. It felt right. Like I'd been in the threshold of a door before, standing outside, watching everybody else from a vantage point far away, and then I'd stepped through the doorway, and into my—

I swear, the word just popped into my mind with absolutely no help from me _whatsoever._

—home.

I started, and nearly crashed into a tree stump, but managed to skirt around it just in time. Nahuel shot me a concerned look, and I waved him off (and normally, I wouldn't have, but this _realization_ required all my attention). I'd just…

_Home?!_

It wasn't like I _hadn't _been home before, though.

… right?

A memory then jumped into my brain, like it'd been just _waiting_ at the edge of it (it as in my brain), ready to dive in, the moment I triggered something to let it. (Dive in, I mean.) It was only… what, a few hours ago? … when I'd run away from Sam and Emily's wedding reception (and let me tell you, that felt like _ages_ ago), and I'd been moping around the forest in wolf form, before I'd imprinted, and Seth and Jacob had popped into my head.

I'd been all, "I'm in the forest, near Forks." I was going to say "home," but I hadn't.

Was it because…

_Nahuel_ was my home?

(I told you. Popped into my head. With absolutely _no_ help from me. National Screw Leah Over Day, okay?)

… That was ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. Your imprint was your soul mate. Not your _home_.

I realized how ridiculous that thought was (also) the moment it entered my head, and frowned to myself. Alright, so an imprint was a soul mate. Who your soul belonged with, or something.

And wasn't that home?

I chewed my lip and glanced over at Nahuel. He was stepping over a tree branch in his way, and the late evening sunlight sent a faint glimmer over his skin. It wasn't a freaky vampire sparkle glimmer, either; just a light, slightly shiny, _healthy _glow glimmer. And then he glanced up, looked at me, and smiled, the sunlight sparkling off his super-white teeth, too.

Taipei 101 did a(nother) jig in my chest.

Well, if he was my home… I certainly wasn't going to complain.

* * *

_Eh. Sorry if the ending was too cheesy and un-Leah-ish. If so, just pop me a review saying so, and I'll try to fix it up a bit, and chalk the rest up to the craziness of imprinting. :)_

_I have a feeling Nahuel and Edward were both sort of OOC in this chapter… blah. Were they?_

_Watch out for Nahuel's sisters. They'll be important, yo._

_… I /mean/, erm… won't you please review? -cough-_

_Oh, and this chapter hasn't been edited. 'Cause I have to get off the computer with the functioning Microsoft Word now. Screw my dad. He has two freaking laptops, too. Guess how many /I/ have. (The answer's zero, by the way. Just in case you weren't sure.)_

_EDIT: I changed "__Sage" to "Joanna". "It was originally Joanna and Christie, and then I, er, came up with Sadie. Maybe that will be her middle name or something. Sage. Oh, whatever. You__ shall __all see why the names are a big deal later on.  
_


	5. Trash Bin

_Yo! I put a note about this at the end of the last chapter, but since it's likely that none of you will see it, I'll put a note about it here, too: I changed Sage's name to Joanna. (It was originally Joanna and Christie. And Layla. Layla stayed unchanged.) Though Sage will probably be her—as in Joanna's—middle name or something. You'll find out why the names are a big deal later on. Yeah.  
_

_Here are some anonymous review replies that I forgot last chapter; sorry. Because I have to reply to all reviews, no matter what. -OCD-_

_Please note that, since this is in first person point-of-view, it's just what Leah knows and thinks, and nobody else. Okay? Okay._

**_apikale-wahine: _**_Yeah. Did. And here's another update. xD _

**_nala!:_**_ Glad to hear that! :D And, er… you'll see. ^_^;_

**_hasa:_**_ I did. Bwaha. So do I!_

**_Guess who ~~~: _**_Vae. Or Hannah. Err. You two talk alike. o_O Glad you like it, though. Whoever you are. Yeah. :D_

**_beybladegirl: _**_Haha, glad you liked that. xD Thanks! And it's funny; I got your review just as I was writing a new chapter. Okay, so that wasn't funny. Whatever._

_Thanks to everyone who reviewed!_

_

* * *

_

"_Leah Mary Clearwater! _Where have you _been_?!"

I really should have expected that.

Can you really blame me for not doing so, though? (Expecting that, I mean.) 'Cause _dude_, I'd just spent half an hour or so with _Nahuel._ My effin' _imprint_.

So… seriously.

"Hey, Mom," I said, inching further into our house. That's right, _inching_. Because when Mom used full names, including middle, it was always best to proceed with caution.

She was sitting on the couch in the middle of the living room, arms crossed over her chest. I caught one glimpse of her "before" face, what she must've looked like the whole time while she waiting for me… she looked, I don't know, _completely_ worried or something. Almost like she'd been crying, but Mom was a strong woman. She didn't _cry_.

Then her lips pursed, her eyes narrowed, and the "before" face disappeared. She stood up and advanced. I backed away, until my shoulders hit the doorway I'd just entered through.

… Before you start laughing at me, think about this: I was a werewolf. (Shape-shifter. Whatever. Screw whoever brought it up in the first place to make me always second-guess myself about the correct terminology for what kind of being I was.) I'd fought and _killed_ bloodsuckers before. I ran around on a temperature of 108 degrees or something like that. I'd cliff-dived before. I could cut myself and be completely healed in, like, under a minute or something. Once, a guy had tried to feel me up at a club, and I'd broken his nose, twisted his wrist, and kneed him in the groin in the span of three seconds or so.

So basically, if I was backing away, it was for a good reason. And believe me when I say that my mom getting mad at me was a _very_ good reason.

Sue Clearwater was not someone to be trifled with. And it wouldn't look it, judging from her five-foot-two frame, but take it from her daughter: she was _scary_ when she was mad. It was more than likely (hell, it was _guaranteed_) she was planning to castigate me. Which was not good. Not good at all.

"Leah. Please answer my question."

"Um." I gulped. There was nowhere else to turn, and if I ran out of the house, it'd just be worse later on. "I was… with Jacob."

Well, that was the truth. Sort of.

"Leah, you _ran_ _away_. The place where you were at first wasn't in La Push; not even in Forks. You could have been _anywhere._ Do you know how _worried_ I was?"

"No?" It wasn't supposed to come out like a question, but it did.

"That's right. No, Leah, you did _not_ know how worried I was. Well, let me tell you. I was _very, very worried._"

"I'm sorry," I said. It was the only thing I could think of to say.

Before Mom could continue with her rant—at least, it was going to grow into one, and soon—Seth stepped into the room, a sandwich in his hand. His eyes widened when he saw me, and he dashed back into the kitchen, where he'd come from.

… What?

Then he came back, minus the sandwich (_oh_, I thought), and practically flung himself at me. I stumbled backwards, head hitting the doorframe. Ow. Since when had my little brother gotten taller than me?

Oh, right, since he'd turned into a giant wolf.

"Seth, there's no need for that!" I exclaimed, pushing him off me. "I was only gone for a few… hours…"

"Yeah, well, I wasn't sure when you were going to come back, and if you were going to be okay, with the whole wedding thing," he explained, and then he sort of froze. "Shit, I didn't mean to say that—"

I didn't know when Mom had snuck up behind us, but she was here now, and she walloped Seth over the head with a rolled-up newspaper, and he winced, even though it probably hadn't hurt, 'cause of the whole wolf thing. "Language!" Mom reprimanded him.

"Sorry, sorry! Leah and Jake are a really bad influence," Seth defended himself.

I snatched the newspaper from Mom and it was me this time who hit him 'round the head with it. "Oh, sure, pin the blame on someone else," I grumbled.

"Aw, Leah," Seth complained, stealing the newspaper from me and chucking it over his shoulder, where none of us could reach it. Then he grinned at me, a flash of white against his dark face. "I'm really glad you're back," he said, and my stupid, much-abused heart warmed at the sincerity in his voice. I was really lucky to have such a great little brother.

… God, when had I turned into such a softie?

I blamed the imprint. (Which I did a lot today, but it was _true_.)

"Leah, I know it's very difficult for you," Mom cut in, pushing Seth away, "everything with Emily and Sam,"—she looked vaguely worried here, glancing at me, like I was going to burst into tears at the sound of his name or something, but she plowed on when my face remained impassive—"but you can't just go _running off_ whenever you feel like it. You're twenty-one years old already; you have _responsibilities. _And it was _very_ irresponsible of you to just go running off like that, without telling anybody where you were going—"

"Seth and Jacob knew," I protested. "The whole wolf thing, remember?"

Mom grimaced. "It doesn't matter," she said, swatting the point I'd made away like a pesky fly. "You still need to _tell_ people where you're going, and not just go running off first. I dislike irresponsibility, Leah."

"I know," I mumbled.

"Therefore, you are not allowed to go anywhere out of this house unless you tell me exactly where you're going, who you're going to be with, what you're going to be doing, and when you'll be back."

_"What?!"_

Castigation, all right. At least it wasn't public.

… Well, _there_ went my plans of sneaking back to the Cullens' to see Nahuel again. Because I sure as hell was not going to tell _anybody_ about the imprint.

Anybody else, anyway.

"Be glad I'm allowing you to leave the house at all," Mom snapped. "Or would you like me to disallow you that, Leah?"

I swallowed back my retort upon catching sight of the dangerous glint in her eyes.

"No. It's fine. And…"

"Good," Mom said decisively, and then she suddenly hugged me so hard that, despite the whole wolf thing, I very nearly had the breath choked out of me. "I really was worried, Leah," she told me, and then she swept off.

That made me feel really, really low.

"Are you okay now, Leah?" Seth asked me, from where he now lounging on the couch in the living room, his sandwich in his hand again. "I mean, about the whole wed—er… thing…"

"I'm fine," I said, and when he looked completely disbelieving, I tried to smile, to reassure him.

I don't know who was more surprised, me or Seth, when it actually _worked_.

"Wow, Leah," he gasped, jumping up from the couch (putting his sandwich down in the process), "did you just _smile_?!"

"I guess I did," I said.

"Wow… you don't look sad at all—and I don't mean that offensively!" Seth exclaimed, peering at my face. "Did you imprint or something?"

There was a pause.

"I was just joking, sorry, I didn't mean that—" Seth began, as I choked out, "How the _hell _did you know? Did Jake tell you? I'm going to _kill_ him—"

"Holy shit!" Seth shouted. "You _imprinted_?!"

"Did I hear a profanity?" my mother's faint voice came from somewhere in the house.

"No!" Seth called back.

"That's good!" Mom's voice faded away.

"But… you _imprinted_?! On _who_?! I was just _joking_; I didn't _mean_ it—"

Great. So it was my own fault that Seth knew now. I couldn't even kill Jacob for telling him, because he _hadn't_… there went my plan of taking out some stress. (On Jake.) Damn.

"No _wonder_ you're so… not sad—I didn't mean that offensively," Seth was quick to assure me.

"Goddammit, I'm not going to blow up in your face or anything," I informed him, "so stop acting like I'm a ticking time bomb or something!"

"You sound mad," Seth pointed out.

"Ugh, whatever!"

"Waitwaitwait, so who did you imprint on?" he asked. "And… I'm really glad you imprinted! That's really good, Leah!"

"Is it?"

"Of course it is!" Well, I had to agree with him there.

… Ugh. I was showing symptoms of, like, multiple-personality disorder or something. The very _thought_ of Nahuel could bring a smile to my face, and it often promptly did so, but sometimes, the idea of me imprinting wasn't good. At all.

After all, hadn't there been a time when I hated imprinting, and all who did so? I'd called all of them—Jared, Paul, Sam, Jacob—imprinted zombies.

And now I was one.

… but it wasn't a _bad_ thing…

… and that was proof of my imprinted-zombie-ness.

… multiple-personality disorder. Ugh, ugh, _ugh_.

"Leah? Who did you imprint on?"

Seth's voice snapped me out of my mental argument… with myself (yeah, multiple-personality disorder all right). "Oh. Nahuel," I answered, promptly, my brain not even considering not telling Seth. (And I didn't even know _why_. Once again, it must have been the whole concept of imprinting in the first place.)

Then reason returned to me, for a brief second, and I uttered a quick, but heartfelt, "Fuck."

What happened to not telling anybody (else) about the imprint? What was _wrong_ with me?!

(Answer: Nothing. Imprinting was _wonderful_.

Either that, or it was just yet another side effect of NSLOD—National Screw Leah Over Day.)

"Nahuel," Seth said slowly. "That's… you imprinted on the half-vamp dude from South America?! The one who's visiting the Cullens?"

"Shitshitshit," I muttered. "I didn't mean to tell you. And there's only one 'half-vamp dude from South America,' you know. You don't have to specify."

"Yeah, I know. Well, you _did _tell me, and I'm glad, and… that's awesome, Leah! Really awesome! Now you can be happy!"

I stared, incredulous.

"Seth, what Lifetime channel movies have you been watching lately?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said dismissively. "But… you imprinted, Leah! That's really good!"

"Sure."

"So you were with Nahuel then, when you disappeared?"

It was still NSLOD; I automatically smiled without even trying to (again). "Yeah."

"And he's… wow, both you and Jake imprinted on half-vampires," Seth mused. "All the half-vampires we know so far got imprinted on. That's really weird."

"I guess," I said, secretly wishing Seth would shut up. I still didn't really want to think about the whole half-_vampire_ thing just yet. 'Cause, y'know, vampires were sort of our mortal (or immortal… ha, I'm so witty) enemies.

"Doesn't Nahuel have sisters or something? Half-vampire sisters?" I nodded. "Wouldn't it be funny if they all got imprinted on, too?"

"Sure." I didn't really see the humor in it, though.

Seth stared at me blankly for a moment, before shaking his head. "You don't get it, do you?"

"No."

"Figures."

Since when did_ Seth_ become so cynical?

Then he smiled again, the action lighting up his face like a Christmas tree or… whatever. "I want to meet Nahuel!" he declared.

It so figured. Leave it to Seth.

"Um," I said.

"Come _on_, Leah," Seth whined. "He's your _imprint_. I wanna meet him! He seems nice!"

I shot him another incredulous look. "You've never even _met_ him."

"Well, he seemed like a nice person when he was talking to the Volturi!"

"Who the hell are the Volturi?" I wanted to know.

"You know… the vampire dudes who came to investigate Nessie in January or something," Seth reminded me.

"Oh." I'd always just thought of them as bloodsucker Nazis; I hadn't exactly given them an official name to be called by.

"Wait," I said, slowly. "You heard him relating a _story_ to the bloodsucker Nazis, and you decided he was _nice _from that?"

"Why not?" Seth shrugged.

Wow. He was insane.

… Everyone was, really. We were all just insane in different ways.

"So, Leah! Can I meet him? Please?" he pleaded.

I chewed on my lip. "Um…"

"Pleaaaaase?"

Now he was begging. Crap. What the hell did I have to go and tell him for? Screw me and my big mouth.

… As long as Nahuel did the screwing, I was fine with that.

I think my eye twitched.

"Well, um," I mumbled.

"Pleeeeeeease?"

"Uh."

"Hey," Seth said, changing the subject for a moment, "when did you imprint on him, anyway? I mean, when did you meet him? Didja go to the Cullens'? And what did he say when he found out about the imprint?"

Ugh. Practically the same barrage of questions Jacob had hit me with. I felt slightly dizzy. You couldn't really blame me; a _lot_ had happened since Sam and Emily's wedding this afternoon, which, I repeat, seemed like _ages_ ago.

If I'd known all this shit (and some of it not shit, like anything and everything to do with Nahuel) would happen today, I would've gotten a lot more sleep last night, instead of tossing and turning in bed, thinking about the wedding.

I would've called it The Wedding only yesterday, but it _so_ did not deserve capital letters anymore.

Fate really needed to give us some _warning_. Yes, some warning would have been nice, giving us all some time to prepare for getting our lives turned completely upside-down.

But of course, it was totally unexpected.

Thanks a lot, fate.

"Uh, Leah? Earth to Leah? Come in, come in…"

"You are _so_ not funny, Seth," I grumbled, pushing his waving hand out of my face.

"Hey, so, where were you when you imprinted on Nahuel?"

My stupid, uncontrollable mouth decided to be accommodating. "The woods."

"Oh." Seth's eyes widened. _"Oh."_

"Yes, _oh_." I decided to try and make an escape for it. "I'm going to bed, okay? Bye—"

"No way!" Seth jumped in my path and waved his arms about like a windmill. "I want to meet Nahuel!"

"Right _now_?" I asked in disbelief.

"Of course not. Tomorrow!"

"Didn't you hear Mom? I can't go anywhere unless I tell her where I go, and when I'll be back, and all that, and if I don't, she'll probably prevent me from ever leaving the house in the first place for like, twelve years or something!"

"So then tell Mom about the imprint!" Seth looked at me like the solution was obvious.

"I can't do that!"

"And why not?"

"Because one, Mom's an _Elder_ and Nahuel's half-_vampire_, and two, Nahuel doesn't even know about the imprint himself so why should I tell _Mom_?!"

Speaking of Mom, I really needed to tone it down, or she'd hear me.

… shitshitshitshitSHIT, I'd just told Seth about not telling Nahuel about the imprint.

… which, in retrospect, probably wasn't that bad a thing to have done, because Seth needed to know not to tell Nahuel.

But _still_. All I felt then was some sort of panic.

"Holy…" Seth's eyes widened into saucers. Jake had some competition for the wide-eyed goldfish (song) thing. (Except "Jacob" had two syllables, whereas "Seth" only had one. Whatever.) "You didn't even _tell_ him?!"

"Well, so?" I defended myself. "When Sam imprinted on Emily, he didn't tell her right away about the imprint, did he?"

"Wow," Seth muttered.

"What?"

"You just talked about Sam imprinting on Emily like you were talking about Kim and Jared or something," he said. "I guess you really _did_ imprint."

I could've smacked him over the head for that comment, but he'd tossed the rolled-up newspaper away earlier and I was too lazy to go get it. Also, I didn't want to get his lice on my hands. (And that was a joke, by the way. Just to clarify. Seth didn't really have lice. … I think. I hope. Maybe he had fleas, like with a dog… annnd, I'll get back to the point now.)

But seriously, why did he have to go around making practically the exact same comments that Jacob had? It was annoying.

"But!" Seth pointed out. "Emily's human! So's Kim, and everything. _Nahuel_ isn't! So he already knows about imprinting, so you can tell him!"

The kid looked delighted with himself for figuring this out.

"Nahuel's not human?" I frowned. "Yes he is."

"_Half_-human."

"Shaddup." Anything to prevent any thoughts about the _other_ half.

"Yeah, so why don't you tell him? Since he's not all human and he knows about imprinting already."

"Whatever. Seth?"

"Yeah?"

"If you tell him, or _anyone, _I swear to Pablo Diego José Francisco de Paula Juan Nepomuceno María de los Remedios Cipriano de la Santísima Trinidad Ruiz y Picasso I'm going to kill your man-crush. Murder him. _Assassinate_ him."

Seth gave me a completely weirded out look. "First of all, who the hell is Frances Paul One Necromancer Maria Remedy Cider Santa Trinity Rue or whatever? Second of all, I do _not_ have a man-crush!"

"Pablo Picasso's full name." It was one of the few things I knew that most people didn't. (Besides, y'know, the whole all-the-ancient-Quileute-legends-are-true thing.) I'd always been fascinated by Picasso's works in art class at school, and just the artist in general. "And you so totally have a man-crush on the daddy privacy-invader. Don't deny it."

"Daddy privacy—oh, you're talking about Edward? Wha—? I do _not_ have a man-crush on Edward!"

"The Nile's not just a river in Egypt," I sing-songed (sang-songed?).

"Shut up, Leah!"

"Make me."

"I do _not_ have a man-crush on _anybody_!"

"Well, you used to have one on Jake, but then you transferred it to Edward, which I guess is good, 'cause otherwise I'd have to hear about how much you wanna fuck Jake when we're phased—"

"Leah, that's really freakin' gross! And so not true! Shut _up_!"

"I'll shut up if you promise not to tell anybody—including Nahuel—about the imprint, Mr. I-Wanna-Fuck-Edward-Cullen—"

"Okay, okay, I won't tell anyone! Just shut up!"

I grinned. Blackmail (or whatever the hell my method of making Seth not tell anybody about Nahuel had been) always worked _so_ much better than bribes.

* * *

It was much later, in my bedroom, and I couldn't sleep.

That in itself was weird, since I hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. But I seriously couldn't sleep. The red numbers blinking on the digital clock next to my bed declared the time to be seventeen minutes past one in the morning. I'd been lying in bed since twelve.

It was sort of to be expected that I couldn't sleep, though. I mean, a _lot_ had happened today. Sam and Emily were now officially husband and wife. I'd imprinted. People had found out. And the very thought of my imprint (_NahuelNahuelNahuel_, my brain chanted) was still enough to put a smile on my face.

I'd probably genuinely smiled more times today than I had in the past few _years_. That was actually a really scary thought.

I tossed and turned in bed some more, but every time I closed my eyes, Nahuel's calm, soothing face popped up in my mind. When this happened for the nineteenth time, I sat up in bed and turned on the bedside lamp, knowing I wouldn't be able to sleep for quite some time, so what was the point of trying?

To pass the time, I flopped down on the floor, next to the gray metal wastebasket, and reached under my bed. I had some random board games there; I hadn't played any in a while, but I used to do so all the time, with Seth and Sam and other girl friends, and I decided to do so now.

I found the Game of Life, or just Life, and opened it, setting up the game board. It was one of those residual memories, something you never forgot how to do—like riding a bike. I seriously hadn't touched this board game (if all the layers of dust on it were any indication) in years, but my fingers automatically knew where to put everything.

Maybe it would be amusing to play a game against myself. (That way, I would never lose. Even though I _would_ lose, I'd still win, so whatever.) Either that, or I'd get so freaking bored, I'd put myself to sleep. It was a win-win situation.

As the numbers on the clock ticked by, I spun the wheel multiple times, collecting and distributing money, collecting LIFE tiles, and the like. I noticed as I played that none of the spaces on the game board had any options like "Turn into a werewolf" or "Nearly get crushed to death by a bloodsucker. Lose two turns." I smiled wryly to myself.

I went on in this vein until it was well past two in the morning, and then I found my eyelids were starting to droop, just the slightest bit. I started shoving everything under my bed, resolving to clean it up tomorrow morning. As I did so, however, my fingers hit another box under the bed, something rough and not board game-like at all. Curiosity and fatigue battled it out until, in the end, curiosity won, and I pulled the box out.

It was a cardboard box, but the rough kind of cardboard, not the smooth kind. I opened the lid and then gaped in astonishment.

Pictures.

I rifled through everything in the box in a daze. Sam and I, our arms around each other, smiling. A rough sketch of Sam that I'd done. Sam and I, kissing. Seth in the background, pulling faces. A lightly colored drawing of… who else?… Sam. A necklace, made of crystal glass. A note Sam had written me. A plastic rose. A box of half-eaten chocolate, probably expired by now (but I'd never met a single person who hadn't eaten expired candy before, so… whatever. Again). More pictures, some photographs and some I'd drawn.

I sat back, still feeling dazed. I used to love drawing and sketching things, and I'd been pretty good at it, if I do say so myself (which I do). When Sam broke up with me, I'd given up drawing. I'd taken all the pictures (both drawn and taken) of Sam I had—as well as any gifts he'd given me that I still had, or remembered, or just anything that reminded me of him, really—, put them all in a box, and shoved it… somewhere. As the years passed, all the love I'd had for Sam was leeched away, and only anger, bitterness, and pain was left.

As the years passed, I'd also forgotten just where I'd shoved that box.

Well, it looked like I knew now.

I picked up the picture at the top of the pile: a photograph, Sam kissing the top of my head. I stared at it for one long moment, then violently ripped it in half.

I put the picture back in the box and pushed it back under my bed, resolving to throw it in the trash bin first thing in the morning.

* * *

_Cheesy ending much? _

_Oh well. Review, please. :D This was a long chapter, at least for my standards—over 4,000 words. Whoot. Sorry if Seth and Sue's reactions (to different things, but whatever… as Leah says a lot in this chapter, haha) were sort of off._

_And sorry for making Leah's middle name Mary. "Mary" means "bitter," apparently, so I just couldn't resist. Yeah. Weary Bitter Clearwater. (/Clear Water.) Ha._


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